


Lower Your Eyelids to Die With the Sun

by deadlydeanw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Dean, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Angry Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys Kissing, Castiel Has Doubts, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Cuddly Castiel, Cuddly Dean, Cuddly Dean Winchester, Dean Has Issues, Dean Has Nightmares, Dean Has a Bad Day, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean in Denial, Destiel - Freeform, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Baggage, Emotionally Hurt Castiel, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, First Time, Frustrated Castiel, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Heartbroken Dean, Human Castiel, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Plot Twists, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8189548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlydeanw/pseuds/deadlydeanw
Summary: Dean doesn't want to admit that he's heartbroken, he doesn't want to admit that saying goodbye to Cas ripped him into a million pieces, and he doesn't want to admit that the only person who can put him back together has left him. Dean never wants to admit just how hurt he is, how broken he is.But maybe he doesn't have to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *the title of this one-shot is based on the m83 song for two reasons. 1) it was the only song I listened to during the month that it took me to write this. 2) it set the mood nicely  
> **this one-shot kind of went in a bunch of crazy directions that I hadn't planned for so hopefully it's coherent enough to be good.  
> 

        The air was light as the breeze danced across the water; small waves lapping at the shore and washing over the small feet of giggling children. The air was crisp and smelled vaguely like strawberries. Dean was alone on the water, the temperature of the ocean dropping too low in the fall months for most people. His skin tingled as his arms waded through the water, an icy chill flowing through him. Dean closed his eyes and focused on the sounds around him; they were a strange accompaniment to the dizzying thoughts whizzing around his brain.

        The children playing at the shore screamed and giggled, running in and out of the water; and Dean _saw_ Cas again, remembering the way he looked from across the café. The wind whistled in the quiet morning, sending a chill down his spine; and Dean _felt_ Cas again, his lips softly playing over his own, relishing in the brief moment after their first kiss. The water lapped at his bare skin, moving over him, moving through him, as he waded; and Dean _held_ Cas again, twirling their fingers together, their legs twisting like tree branches under the watery sheets. The small hum of a motorboat danced underwater next to Dean’s ears, clinging onto the promise of being heard; and Dean _left_ Cas again, their painful goodbye looming over his head, and the low ring of heartbreak slowly filling his brain.

        Dean felt himself sinking, the pressure in his chest growing too intense to fight. Each sound brought back the memories, and each memory brought back the pain. The pain of soft and hesitant first kisses, the pain of clumsy and awkward first dates, the pain of losing yourself in someone’s eyes, the pain of fumbling and blissful first times, and the pain of real and genuine love. The ringing was deafening by now.

        Dean watched, helpless, as the water filled in over him. He _tried_ to reach out in front of him, he willed his hands to grab onto something sturdy, but he was glued together with the paralyzing sense of complete and utter loss. The water rippled past him as the pressure built up fast and wide. The world was dropping cinder blocks onto Dean’s chest and he was suffocating. His first moments with Cas, his last moments with Cas, and all the little in between bits illuminated his mind.

        The water blackened, shapes zipped back and forth, and the ocean became a mad house. Dean heard screams soar past his head and echo throughout the depths of the sea. He watched himself fall further into the Earth, so far down that he was still. The water around him was dark; creatures invisible as they snaked around him, surrounding him with eyes. He stared out into the black, desperately hoping to see blue. He wished, prayed, for the ocean to wash away and carry him to the sea of colour he craved. The blue that grounded him, the blue that kept him awake at night and the blue that took his breath away that first day in the café. He wanted to _drown_ in Castiel’s eyes. He wanted to live in the clear blue swimming pools for the rest of his short, uneventful life. He wanted one last chance, one last glance into the colour he once called _home_. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even see his own hand in front of him.

        As the creatures melted into his skin and the ringing buzzed inside his head, Dean heard another sound. It was a faint sound, but it rattled loudly in his ear. Dean reached out to the noise, desperate for something, anything, to pull him out of this nightmare. It was the sound of a keyboard; it was the sound of delicate fingers drumming over the keys. He knew what this was; it was the same sound that had been embedded in his mind for months. It was Cas sitting at the kitchen table, typing furiously; it was Cas sitting in the café, waiting for Dean to finish his shift; it was Cas sitting on their bed, staring at the laptop screen, willing his book to type itself. He knew that sound. He cherished that sound. It sounded like love and it sounded like home.

        The steady drumming drew closer and Dean could feel the ringing subside, quieting to a small lull in the back of his mind. He felt Cas falling closer to him and he _pushed_. He pushed against the darkness with full force, sending his body scrambling through the water. He felt the ocean slip through his fingers before he was slammed against a wall. Except, it wasn’t a wall. It was the kitchen door at the café swinging shut behind Sammy. He felt a wave of panic rise over him as he pushed through the doors into the front restaurant. Out of habit, he spotted Castiel immediately, hunched over his computer screen, sitting next to the window. His favourite snack, two cashew cookies, sat half-eaten beside him. He watched nervously from the other side of the room as he saw a man approach Castiel’s table, the small crinkle beside Cas’ eyes not going unnoticed. He watched the two for a while, as the two exchanged a light conversation, pausing only to throw their heads back in laughter. Cas motioned for the man to sit across from him, and it was only then that Dean saw the tray in the man’s hands and the apron wrapped around his waist, and as the man sat down, Dean saw himself.

        It took him a moment before he realized what was happening in front of him. This was the first time he had the balls to talk to the cute boy at the window. It was the time Sammy threatened to quit if Dean didn’t _at least_ say hello. So Dean did, and he would silently thank Sam every day after that. He watched the two, Cas and himself, for a short while after. He watched himself fidget as Cas explained a wild story from his childhood, and he watched Cas smile wide as Dean told him about how Sammy broke his arm trying to fly. He watched this first meeting, a conversation filled with innocence and flirtation, and noticed the small things, the things he never noticed in that moment. Like the way Cas leaned in over the table when he was listening to Dean and the way Cas’ eyes twinkled under the beam of sunlight pouring through the window. He watched them closely until he heard another noise. More ringing. _God, he’s sick of the ringing_. It travelled closer, and Dean shot out of his chair as he felt the restaurant shake. He watched chairs fall over and cups rattle across tables and he saw that he was the only one noticing. He was the only one freaking out, trying to figure out what was going on, but it didn’t last for long. He was quickly blinded by a bright light, and he had to duck out of the way as something barrelled closer to him.

        He rolled to the side, barely missing the train as it soared past. He was suddenly not in the café anymore, but instead, he was in a field. The train continued to track by and he felt the breeze momentarily, ghosting across his skin as he drank in the scene. The sun was setting along the horizon, just barely visible over the tall wheat flowing in the wind. He watched quietly as another version of himself shifted awkwardly against the Impala, Cas leaning right next to him, and the faint autumn smell of the air reminded Dean where he was. It was four years ago, the two of them had hopped in the Impala and they just _drove_. They ended up two counties over in a large field by the train tracks. They hadn’t packed any food, so they snacked on the granola bar Cas had hidden deep in his jacket pocket. It wasn’t a significant day for the most part, the two of them had just been chatting about nothing. Dean talked about how Sam was doing in school, and Cas talked about the volunteer work he had been doing, and it was nothing special. Until he felt Cas staring at him. Cas had just been watching Dean, admiring the way his jaw moved as he chewed the snack bar and when Dean looked over at Cas, he was stunned. The sun was still setting behind him and it casted a small halo around his face; it even dared to poke through his messy hair. His blue eyes twinkled in the golden light as he smiled, and Dean couldn’t help himself. His hand came up to rest on Castiel’s cheek, his thumb ghosting over his lips, and he leaned in slowly before he paused.

        “I’m desperate to kiss you,” he had said, his eyes scanning Cas’ for a sign, for _something_.

        Castiel’s lips parted quickly before his arms came up to wrap around Dean’s neck, pulling him in and sinking their lips together. The kiss didn’t last long, both of them had been hesitant, but they stayed close, their foreheads resting against one another’s as they breathed in each other’s air. Dean watched from farther back as the two stayed there together, Cas’ hand resting on the back of Dean’s neck and Dean’s hand twisted in Cas’ hair. He stood there and watched as a smile littered Castiel’s face before Dean was yanked underground.

        He fell for awhile, his arms and legs flailing around him as he tumbled, until he smashed into a cold floor. He groaned loudly as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he was sure he heard giggling, if only his eyes would adjust to the sudden darkness. When his eyes finally readjusted, he could see where the giggling was coming from. In the bed in front of him sat another Cas and another Dean. He was still sitting on the floor where he had fallen but he could see the two of them tangled together in the sheets. Cas was laying halfway across Dean, placing lazy kisses onto his neck, still laughing softly. Dean had one arm tucked under his head and one arm over Castiel, tracing small circles on his back.

        Dean sat near the wall; he remembered this day like it was yesterday.

        Dean had invited Cas over for dinner, after having sent Sam off to a friend’s house for the night, because he wanted to impress Cas with his superior cooking skills. After having burnt two chicken breasts and the garlic bread, Dean ended up making a simple fettuccine alfredo, and the two of them slurped up the meal in no time. It was during dishes when the real fun had begun.

        Dean had one of those fun extendable taps, and Cas took full advantage. It happened quick; Dean had turned to put a dry plate into the cupboard, and Cas took the opportunity to snatch the nozzle from the sink and sprayed Dean directly in the back. A losing battle ensued, both of them trying to spray the other, both of them ending up soaked from head to toe, the kitchen ending up a mess, and the dirty dishes still lying in the sink. They ended up having to trudge upstairs to the laundry machines just to strip out of their clothes. One of them had suggested changing into fresh clothes, but they never got that far. They shuffled into the bedroom as they chased kisses from one another, hands pulling each other closer, before they had collapsed onto the bed.

        “I’m desperate to kiss you,” Dean had whispered, voice dark as he reached out and carded his fingers through Cas’ hair.

        “You already are,” Castiel replied, pressing down and stealing a kiss from Dean.

        “No, again,” Dean kissed Castiel’s forehead, “and again,” then he kissed the tip of his nose, “and again,” and then he softly pressed his lips to Castiel’s, “forever.”

        That night had been one of the best nights of his life. It definitely wasn’t perfect (Dean remembers almost falling out of the bed laughing because, out of all the options, Cas had chosen _strawberry_ flavoured lube), and it certainly wasn’t Dean’s _first time_ but it was his first time with Cas, and that was all that mattered.

        Dean sunk back into the wall, small tears forming in his eyes, and he felt the water rise back up around him, clouding his view. Soon he was ripped back, right into the heart of the dark sea. The laughter and the warmth of the room slowly faded away and Dean was left with the ringing once more as it vibrated in his ears.

        The whole time, Dean never felt anything but loneliness, so when his hollow chest filled with an incredible sadness, he suddenly felt like his throat was closing in on him. It was all too rushed and too panicked, and Dean needed to _breathe_. He felt for the ground below him and he pushed as hard as he could manage, rocketing himself to the surface of the water. As soon as he broke the surface, everything else faded away. The ground materialized below him and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops surrounded him. He immediately recognized the house in front of him, and he quickly ducked inside to avoid the rain. His loneliness only grew as he stepped into the front hallway and headed towards the stairs. He had a feeling of what scene might be playing out so he took his first few steps carefully. As he rounded the stairs, he heard the small hum of voices. _Yup_ , he knew exactly what was happening now. He dredged up the stairs, not really wanting to witness this event again. He didn’t want to deal with the heartbreak all over again.

        He took his time walking down the short hallway, pausing when he reached the open door to the bedroom. Like expected, Dean could see another Cas standing in front of him facing away from him, facing towards another Dean. He could feel the anguish settling over the room and the loneliness crept forward once again, leaking into Dean. _God,_ this was one of the worst days of Dean’s life.

        Dean had come home, drunk off his ass (which was clearly not worth doing because now he can’t even remember _why_ he had drank so much that night), and Cas was pissed. The two of them had made dinner plans, nothing special just a low-key night at home, and Dean bailed on the plans two hours before dinner. It was 2 a.m. by the time he got home.

        “Dean,” Cas started, “I can’t help you if you keep doing this to yourself. Now, I know I can’t even begin to understand what it is you’re going through and what you feel, but I need your help before I can help you. You don’t even have to talk to me about this; I just need you to talk to _somebody_ before you kill yourself! It’s not healthy to keep emotions like this bottled up for long periods of time, and it’s certainly not healthy for us to be keeping secrets from each other.”

        “Cas, I don’t _need_ help. I need you to leave me the hell alone. I’m _fine_.”

        “No, Dean, you’re not fine,” Cas had blurted, “You flake on our plans, you go out drinking with your loser friends, and you drink yourself into a coma several times a week. For Christ’s sake, you haven’t even talked to Sam in _three years_. He’s your brother, Dean. The only family you have left in this life and you’re pushing him away. Do you know how many times he’s called me, freaked out of his mind because he thinks you might be lying in a ditch somewhere, half dead? You _do_ need help. You need to talk to someone, and let them lessen your burdens.”

        “They’re not losers, Cas. They’re my friends and they support me.”

        “Jesus, Dean. You are so _delusional_. They don’t support you; they support your drinking problem. I can guarantee you that if you called them right now asking for help, they wouldn’t be able to. They are only interested in being your friends when you all have beers in front of you. I can guarantee you that they don’t sit up at night waiting for you, wondering if you’re going to push it too far and pass out only to never wake up again. I can guarantee you that they aren’t worried about you every time you walk out the door, not knowing if you’re coming back in one piece or lying on a stretcher. I can guarantee you that they _do not care_ about your shitty life and your shitty feelings and your messed up family; I can promise you that. So you need to get your head out of your ass before _I_ walk out that door and never come back.”

        “Wait, Cas, you can’t. You can’t leave because I love you,” Dean had whispered, the words slipping past his lips before he had a chance to stop them.

        “Yeah, well, love doesn’t mean much these days.”

        Still watching from the doorway, Dean felt a tear slowly roll down his face. He didn’t hear it back then but this time around he could _feel_ the heartbreak in Cas’ voice. He remembered being so caught up in his own feelings and thinking that he was right all the time and that Cas was just overreacting, and it all seems so _stupid_ now. He never even noticed how much it hurt Cas to see Dean like this; hair dishevelled, clothes untucked and unmatching, shoelaces untied, sporting dark bags under his eyes, and the smell of the bar rolling off his tongue. He was so stupid to think that he wasn’t hurting anybody.

        “Cas, c’mon baby please, we can fix this. I know we can. Just, please, give me one more chan-”

        “Dean, it’s not broken,” Cas interrupted, “It’s just not working. You can’t fix something that never changes. I can’t keep doing this. If you can’t admit to yourself that this path you’re on is toxic, then I can’t be with you. I can’t stand on the sidelines and watch you kill yourself. I won’t do it. I’m calling Sam in the morning and he can figure out what to do with you but for now, I’m gone.”

        With that, Cas grabbed his coat off the desk chair and walked out. Current Dean stepped to the side to let Cas through even though he was sure Cas would’ve walked right through him. Past Dean sunk to the ground, landing on his knees, and started to cry. He didn’t try to run after Cas, and he didn’t try to fix things. He just sat there, crying, eventually sitting down and rocking back and forth. He sat there until morning, the hazy sun peeking through the window as dawn crept by.

        Dean remembered being so buzzed but feeling so empty that night. He remembered thinking back to all his past choices and all his past mistakes, anything that could have brought him here, to this night. He remembered so much that he screamed, he screamed until his throat was raw and his voice had gone missing. He thought about calling Cas; he thought about telling him that he was ready to talk, ready to open up if it meant saving their relationship. But he didn’t. He figured someone like Castiel was better off without a giant failure like Dean in his life. He loved Cas, and that’s why he didn’t call. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

        At this point, when Current Dean finally peeled his eyes off of the small lump of a body lying on the floor, he realized he was crying. They weren’t just small tears; they were real, genuine tears that soaked his cheeks and made him feel like he was choking. He was filled with so much disappointment and regret and _loneliness_. He felt so full of emotion and yet so empty that he had to get out of that room. He had to get away from himself. So he ran. He ran out of the room, down the stairs, out of the house and down the street. He ran until his lungs couldn’t breathe and his legs couldn’t move.

        He thought back to the crumpled version of himself he left behind in that old house. He thought back to all of the things he could have said and how they might have changed Cas’ mind. He sat on the curb thinking until the sun was high in the sky and on its way back down again. He closed his eyes and rubbed at the onset of tiredness that threatened. When he opened his eyes again, it was dark.

        It wasn’t dark like before but he was back in the water and he was fed up. He was tired of being tossed around in this metaphorical world, thrown from one time to another yet still in a constant state of drowning. He could never shake the feeling of water pressing down on his skin, or slimy creatures snaking over his arms and legs. He wanted out, he wanted solid ground under his feet, and he wanted to breathe in fresh air. It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to live through this again? Was this some sort of _Ghosts of Girlfriends Past_ deal to try to make him understand how much he screwed up? Because he already knew. He already knew that he ruined his life and Cas’ life and probably even Sammy’s life. He knew that. So why was this happening, and why could he hear someone calling his name?

        It came from above him and floated past him with ease. It sounded quiet and far away so Dean drifted towards it. He swam further and further; getting closer and closer to the surface of the water yet again. The sound got louder and the water went blue as he swam closer. Just like last time, the moment Dean broke the surface of the water, everything came crashing down from around him. The water fell away and he could finally breathe. His eyes were squeezed shut from the obscene brightness of the sun. It took him a moment to readjust but when he finally opened his eyes, the light filtered in from beside him. He was lying sideways and it took him a moment to realize that he was lying in a bed, his head cushioned against something warm.

        He heard his name called a few more times, more aggressively now, and he looked up. He looked right into Cas’ eyes; a flood of blue washing over him. He couldn’t remember this moment but for that second, it didn’t matter. He felt Cas’ hand press up against the side of his face, and his thumb wipe over his cheek. Dean knew he looked confused as he watched Castiel search his face.

        “Dean, hey, are you alright? You’re crying,” Cas whispered, “Did you have another nightmare?”

        Dean didn’t even need to question whether or not he was actually crying because he felt the wet, hot streams rolling down his face. Cas shifted in bed, closing his laptop and shoving it off to the side.

        “Dean, baby, don’t cry,” he said, this time with both hands cupping Dean’s face and wiping at the tears, “Hey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

        Dean readjusted himself and wrapped both arms around Castiel’s waist, holding him tight and grounding himself to the present. He sobbed gently into Cas’ shirt and inhaled the sweet smell of berries that always lingered on his clothes. Castiel just kept repeating _I’m right here_ over and over again until Dean’s quiet sobs turned into silent tears. When Dean finally stopped trembling and melted into the warmth that surrounded him, Cas slid a finger under Dean’s chin and tilted his head towards him.

        “I’m right here, and I promise I’m never leaving; you’re stuck with me forever,” Cas whispered, a small chuckle escaping his lips before he gently pressed them to Dean’s.

        It was a soft kiss; a slow drag of lips, ghosting over one another in the quiet of the room. Dean parted before looking over Cas’ shoulder and squinting at the clock.

        “What time is it?” he muttered.

        “It’s just after two in the morning. You should sleep. Get some rest.”

        Dean let out a small huff before he curled back up against Castiel, a small smile playing on his lips because it was just a _dream_. A nightmare that he couldn’t shake, but a nightmare no less.

        He really needed to stop watching sad romance movies before bed.

 


End file.
